Timeframe:During the winter of 2001 in my
"Arrows" universe (diverges from canon somewhat after mid-season 7)

Keywords:M/K slash!

Summary:Mulder contemplates a unique feature of his
lover

DISCLAIMER:These characters belong to Chris Carter,
1013 Productions, and the whole X-Files gang, not to me.Barbie (TM) is a product of the Mattel Toy
Company, and I mean no harm to the company nor the product by mentioning it
herein.This story is just for the entertainment
of my online friends and myself, not for any profit.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:The medical innovation at work in this story
was developed at the Duke University Medical Center, and is entirely real.It makes perfect sense, besides!

Please don't redistribute
or alter this story in any way without the express permission of the
author.Thank you very much.

______________________

Alex Krycek has Barbie knees.No, I'm not talking about his legs.Since he was here last, his medical
providers (whoever they might be) have upgraded his prosthetic arm, and now his
plastic fingers bend, courtesy of the very same joints the toy company puts in
the legs of their little fashion model doll.

Sitting here in my
bedroom, I don't dare wake him--he's exhausted.I don't know where he's been this time, and I know better than to
ask.At least I've got something to do:I can't stop looking at this arm of his.

I watched him at
dinner--he bent each finger with his right hand at such an angle that he could
hold his cup in his left, and they stayed in place.It was utterly fascinating.

Samantha's Barbies had
joints just like those that now reside in my lover's fingers.When I was a boy, I'd kidnap one or another
of those hard, pink, curvy figures just to make her squeal.I guess I should have known then that I was
not your average boy, because where the boys down the street would pilfer the
dolls just to take off their tiny clothes and ogle their impossibly
proportioned forms, my G.I. Joes would rescue Barbie from some imagined
monster, then return her home, safe and sound.

What would I give to have
Samantha home, safe and sound?Is she
still out there being the pretend daughter of my smoking nemesis?Does he buy her pretty things and dress her
up as his own living Barbie?Did she
ever believe that G.I. Mulder would come and rescue her, or is she content in
her Dream House, paid for by the Consortium?

Have I betrayed her by
making this twisted alliance with the Consortium's lackey?Maybe it's a good thing that I've never had
the opportunity to bring them together:"Here, Sam," I'd have to say."You know Alex, don't you?I mean, he *did* work for your father.Doing what?I'm not sure.Driving, I know about.Carrying contraband across international lines.Getting on his knees and sucking his cock,
for all I know.Well, he's had the
chance to practice it somewhere, because he's very good at it now..."

No, that's not fair.Alex loves me.I love him.Whatever he
does when he's away from my bed doesn't concern me.Besides, he swore to me that I would be his only lover from now
on.I shouldn't speculate what he's
done in the past, and I should trust him to be faithful to me now.But am I blinded by love--is my trust in
this known liar and thief another construct that the Consortium has put into
place to manipulate me and control my actions?

I can't let myself think
that.He *says* he's working for the
resistance, and I daresay he looks a lot healthier now than when he was the
pawn of the old bastard.I don't even
know if any of the old guard are left now, or if that conflagration at El Rico
erased them all from the face of the earth.Do we have to worry now that colonization is imminent, or has the threat
gone up in smoke, too?Should I ask
Alex?

Someday, Alex will sit
down and tell me everything that he's done in his life--it will probably take
about a gallon of vodka, and maybe bending back the middle finger of his right
hand (yeah, like that) to make sure he doesn't leave anything out.He may not think I want to know, but I
do.I honestly don't care if he originally
set out to destroy me, to get me to keep my nose out of what his bosses didn't
want me to see, whatever.It wasn't his
idea--I'm sure of that.He was just
doing his job, probably to stay alive, if I know him.

*Do* I know Alex?Do I want to see beyond the mask, to
discover the cold-hearted killer behind the camouflage of the dangerous but
misunderstood romantic?Or is there
still a scared kid behind that killer disguise?I swear that sometimes I can see it--like when he was hurt and
needed me to help--but he almost never lets that side of himself show.

Maybe all of this pretense
is summed up in this fake arm.It's a
front--becoming better and better adapted over time to substitute for the real
thing, but always showing its artifice in spite of itself.I wonder: will my lover ever let me in that
far, to see inside all of the covers and prosthetic personalities to the man at
his soul?And will this idea scare him
any less than it does me?

Look at that.I've folded the damned thing into a
fist.Well, as close to a fist as you
can bend these joints.It could be just
the right size to...No, I'm not going
there!If I want fingers to curl around
me just so, I much prefer Alex's talented digits of flesh and bone.Is that all it comes down to?As long as he keeps wanting to make me come,
do I not care what else goes on in his head?And as long as that's all I want from him, and to do for him, should I?

Who am I trying to
kid?I know that there's more to it
than that.If it were just about sex,
it wouldn't hurt so much every time he had to leave.Not just me, either--I've watched him dawdling on purpose before
he goes out the door.He may say he's
got to hit the road, but he just can't quite bring himself to go and leave me
behind.Somewhere in those eyes is that
same scared kid, afraid that he might lose the one person who gives a shit
whether he lives or dies, not really ready to be the lone wolf on the prowl
anymore.

Does he understand
that?Does he know that *I* know what
he can't hide from me?I know I've
tried to show him that, to love him as much as he'll let me for as long as
he'll have me.I just pray that it's
enough...

Let me just put this thing
down here and go back to bed.This arm
is not him.It's a tool, like my
gun...It's not really important.There.This man is what's important.I
can't ever forget that.Good night,
Alex.No matter where you go or what
you do, I'll always be here waiting for you.